


waiting game

by timelxrd



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack????, F/F, One Shot, PWP, Smut, im well aware im going to hell thank you, inspired by the new thirteen pics for s12, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelxrd/pseuds/timelxrd
Summary: in which poker is attempted
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 22
Kudos: 76





	waiting game

“Be prepared, Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor drawls, smirking as she drops her elbows to the table and leans forward, eager to begin. “I have an excellent poker face.”

“Sure.” The younger woman collects up the cards her girlfriend had tried and _failed_ to shuffle between her hands, matching her competitive gaze while she re-orders them. “I was thinking, actually, seeing as you’re so excited to play this _and_ you’ve been wearing that gorgeous suit all day, why don’t we step the game up a notch?”

The Doctor smooths down the lapels of her coat and adjusts her cufflinks, aware of the effect the movement has on the dark-haired woman observing with a vested interest. “Thought you’d like it,” she flirts shamelessly, wetting her lips. “What are you proposing?”

“I’d prefer it even more on the floor,” Yaz starts, tilting her head while her girlfriend all but preens at herself under the influence of her compliments. The latter comment encourages blood and warmth to rush to the Doctor’s face, rendering her cheeks pink and pupils dilated in an instant. “So — whoever loses the round has to take an item of clothing off.”

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor replies, reeling in pleasant surprise. “You speak my language.”

“May as well undo that bow tie now, babe,” Yaz hums, giving one more shuffle before she sets five cards down each with a flourish of her wrist. “I’ve got this round.”

The Doctor’s green eyes are piercing when they pluck their cards from the table and match gazes, assuaging each other’s bluff. 

Until the blonde _beams,_ eyeing the symbols on the material in excitement Yaz can’t help find infectious. 

“What did you say about your poker face, Doctor?” Yaz hums, tilting her head, her smile a firm line so as not to give the game away. 

“It’s excellent,” the Doctor repeats, despite the fact she’s still grinning at the cards in her hands. She holds them up to her chest, pursing her lips and eyeing Yaz as though she’ll steal them from right under her nose. “Brilliant. What are you betting?”

“Your coat. You?”

“Same here — may as well start off easy.”

“So be it,” Yaz grins, wetting her lips when the Doctor next meets her gaze if only to catch the way she follows the movement. “Show.”

The Doctor slams her set down on the table with the enthusiasm of a small child, sitting back with a very self-satisfied smile. “A pair.”

_An ace of spades, a four of hearts, a two of hearts, a two of diamonds and a six of clubs._

Yaz has to bite at the inside of her cheek to hold back her laughter. “Nice try, babe,” she croons as she lays her own cards down on the glossy wooden table. “Royal flush.”

_A ten of hearts, a jack of hearts, a queen of hearts, a king of hearts and an ace of hearts._

The Doctor slumps, pouting at her deck as though it had personally offended her. “This is rigged. We’re playing something else,” she states matter-of-factly, arms folded in a cemented pose. 

“Coat off first,” Yaz laughs, gathering the cards back up with a fond roll of her eyes. “And it’s _not_ rigged. Maybe luck just isn’t on your side.”

“I still want to play something else.” She relents anyway, shrugging her coat off to drape over the back of her chair. While Yaz is distracted, she peels away her star-dusted cufflinks and drops them into her pocket so she can roll her sleeves up to her elbows. There’s a light dusting of freckles gracing otherwise pale skin, but her crisp white shirt adds a little more colour than usual. Perhaps she should wear this getup more often. 

When Yaz catches sight of her ruffled sleeves and bare hands, knuckles prominent and fingers flexing, she can’t help the sudden inhale which sends her girlfriend’s gaze her way. 

The Doctor’s mind is made; she’s _definitely_ wearing this again. 

“O— okay, so what would you like to play instead?”

The blonde leans up to slip the deck of cards from Yaz’s hands, gnawing at her bottom lip in thought. Her expression is serious when she starts shuffling the cards enthusiastically enough to fling more than one in Yaz’s direction. “Snap.”

Yaz’s smile falters, then splits into an amused grin. “ _Seriously?”_

“‘Course. I’m always serious, me.” She punctuates the statement with a sly smirk, but when she spots the cards having accumulated in Yaz’s hand, she gasps. “See! I told you it was rigged! You kept some to yourself.”

“You _literally_ just threw them at me.”

“That’s exactly what a cheater would say, Yaz.” 

Yaz’s glare eases the pointed frown from her girlfriend’s face and leaves her a little breathless instead, fidgeting in her seat. 

“So, snap?”

“I can’t believe the woman I love —” she pauses mid-sentence when the Doctor steals the rest of the cards from her grasp, apparently not working fast enough. “ — is actually a child.”

“Shut up and watch me win,” the Doctor grumbles teasingly, splitting the deck in two and leaning back in her chair to stretch her arms. She brings her joined hands down to rest against the desk and flexes her knuckles in determination a few seconds later. “Ready to lose all of your clothes, Yaz?”

Yaz can only stifle a playful chuckle, swiping her tongue along her bottom lip at the sight of her capable hands and uncaring of the raised brows she receives in turn. She’s always loved the Doctor’s hands. 

But _not_ when she slams one down and earns the first win of the evening. 

“Jacket off, Yaz.”

“I let you have that one.”

“Sure. C’mon, off.” The Doctor nods to the sequined blazer curled around her, hunched forward in her chair until Yaz shrugs the offending item off to bare a white blouse beneath. “Good.”

Yaz can’t deny the effect of the last syllable from her lips, quelling a shiver which threatens to send her legs to jelly. “You’re not going to be smirking soon enough.” She lays the next card down with a touch more caution to its symbol. 

The Doctor follows with another and the game continues. “You’re all talk and no action.”

“Snap!” Yaz cries, palm coming to rest against a four of spades and a four of hearts in consecutive order. She lifts her gaze to match surprised green. “You were saying?”

“Luck,” the Doctor mutters, clutching her cards closer. “What am I losing?”

“The bow tie.”

“Bow ties are _cool.”_

“You think soil is cool. Off it goes, babe.”

Littered with gold, the tie falls to the table at her side. “Let’s go.”

The Doctor wins the next round, lips falling into a demure smirk while she weighs up her options, glossy green eyes scanning Yaz’s form.

“Less leering, more playing,” Yaz instructs, flirting her hands along the hem of her white blouse in question. 

“Top off, please,” the Doctor purrs, leaning on her elbows while her girlfriend willingly peels the garment over her head. She’s wearing a black, lacy number beneath which leaves not a lot to the imagination, and when the Doctor breathes a soft, yearning little sigh, her chest and neck warm as if burnt. 

She clears her throat, laying down the next card without drawing her gaze away. 

So it’s not surprising, really, when Yaz takes the next round for herself. 

“Shirt off,” she orders confidently, leaning her chin into her palm and dancing her fingertips over her bottom lip patiently. 

“You can’t blame me for getting distracted,” the Doctor huffs as she unbuttons her shirt, revealing a white sports bra dusted with tiny… bananas? 

“Really?” Yaz quips, though she’s hardly complaining when the garment is accompanied by a lightly toned but otherwise perfectly soft stomach. She has to curl her fingers tighter around her set of cards to resist circling the table and smoothing a palm over the pink flesh. 

The Doctor levels their gazes with a flustered smirk, expression otherwise steely. “Always bring a banana to a party, Yaz.”

Instead of answering — because what is she meant to say to _that?_ — Yaz sets down her next card, admiring the way the Doctor’s stomach shifts and flexes with each breath she takes. 

The blonde can already spot Yaz’s pulse racing in her neck when she brings the next card down, her tongue swiping over the backs of her teeth to quell the desire to trace the quickening movement. 

Yaz wins again, much to the Doctor’s chagrin. 

“Boots and socks next, babe.”

“That’s cheating! That’s _two_ things.”

She shifts a foot beneath the table, nudging the Doctor’s feet apart slightly and, resultantly, her legs, too. The Doctor’s breathy exhale is music to her ears. “You think I can wait much longer? Boots and socks off, _now_.”

Her commanding tone sends the Doctor’s throat bobbing with the weight of a heavy swallow and her feet bare in record time. 

They’re both down to their bottoms and bras soon enough, the competition rising alongside the warmth of the room. 

“Snap!” Yaz cries, elbows pressed close enough together to offer up a teasing slit between her breasts and successfully distract her observant girlfriend. “Get those trousers off, Doctor.”

“Honestly, you usually have brilliant manners,” the Doctor mutters as she unzips her fly and slips free from the dark material, chair wobbling when she finally shucks them down her legs and kicks them free from her ankles. 

“And you usually have a lot more clothing on,” Yaz murmurs by way of response, leaning up slightly to eye her girlfriend’s cookie-littered blue boxers with a bemused huff of laughter. 

A hint of embarrassment tinting her cheeks, the Doctor presses on, imploring herself not to get distracted until a cool, bare foot sidles up between her own and drifts up the inside of her calf. “ _Yaz,_ ” she sighs, shooting her a warning glare. 

“Must’ve slipped, sorry,” she replies, letting it come to rest against the space between the Doctor’s parted thighs so she can’t close them even if she tries. When her girlfriend makes a soft, whiny sort of noise at the back of her throat, heat floods to her gut. “You wanna keep playing?”

“Of — _christ —”_ the Doctor shudders when her heel nudges just a touch closer up the seat, finding damp heat through the time lord’s underwear in an instant. “ — Of— of course. You’re still wearing far too much for my liking.”

“Better concentrate, then,” Yaz quips, cheeky and smug, fully aware of the effect she’s having. 

She wins the next round, swallowing thickly as she eyes the fabric keeping slightly heaving breasts from view. “Off,” she whispers, motioning toward the garment. 

The Doctor sweeps the material over her head with only minimal struggle, casting it aside with a delightful flush to her cheeks. Her hair falls back over her shoulders, short enough to leave strong collar bones on display and Yaz entirely too distracted. She squirms under her girlfriend’s heated gaze, unconsciously pressing against the solid presence between her legs. “My eyes are up here, Yaz.”

“Mm-hm,” Yaz hums, breathing a slow exhale through her nose as she gathers herself. 

The Doctor can see the way her free hand clenches around the edge of the table and she can’t help but be a little proud. 

Surprisingly, Yaz wins the next round, too, but she’s a little too breathless with anticipation to form words at first. With a half-formed smirk, she drops her foot from her chair and stands when the Doctor goes to shimmy out of her boxers dejectedly. “I think I can take it from here.”

The Doctor pauses, lifting her head to take in the darkness to Yaz’s pupils while she approaches like a predator towards its prey. A shudder rolls down her spine, centring between her clenched thighs. 

In a flurry of motion, the blonde suddenly has a lapful of Yasmin Khan, toned thighs curling over her hips while she seeks a dusky nipple with her mouth. “ _Gods —_ I never — I never thought that suit would have such an effect.”

“Yes, you did,” Yaz sighs against the pink hue of her flesh, swiping her tongue in slow swathes over a rapidly hardening bud. 

When the Doctor breaks into a slow, salacious smile, Yaz has to bite down against her flesh to keep herself from jumping her bones right there and then. “Yeah, I did,” she drawls, threading her fingers through Yaz’s hair to hold her in place against her heaving chest, her free hand curled around the swell of her hip. “You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“Shut up,” Yaz breathes, teeth nicking at her nipple to draw a gasp from her lips. She blinks up at her in question when the Doctor suddenly walks her fingertips over her collarbones, then flattens her palm around her neck, thumb brushing her throat. She melts into the lips which press and mould against her own seconds later, tongue invading her mouth as the Doctor works to steal all the oxygen from her lungs. 

She really _could_ , and Yaz wouldn’t complain. 

The Doctor kisses her until they’re both breathless and squirming, one hand reaching up to curl around the clasp of her bra and unclip it blindly. 

When Yaz slips a small hand between them to dance the pads of her fingers along her waistband, her thighs clamp together desperately. “Wait.”

Yaz draws back, offering a thick, raised brow in reply. “Something the matter?” 

“Not at all,” the Doctor grins conspiratorially, pressing a breathless kiss to the corner of her lips. “Can you reach my coat?”

“Why —” Yaz starts, but the Doctor’s demure expression is enough to cut her short. She leans down, grateful for the arms suddenly winding around her hips so she can grasp for the material pooled on the ground beneath them.

“Right pocket,” the Doctor instructs, peeling her girlfriend’s bra away from her shoulders while she has the chance and leaning forward to trace her tongue along the underside of her breast. 

Yaz’s hand closes around cool silicone and she gasps, tracing the length of it before she plucks it free from her infinitely deep pockets and into the Doctor’s eyeline. 

“You — you had that in your _pocket_ the whole time?” 

“Yeah, I did. It was pretty awkward earlier when I went to reach for my sonic and —” 

“Babe, don’t ruin it,” Yaz stops her before she can continue, index finger pressed against parted lips. 

“Sorry,” the Doctor whispers against the intrusion, circling her wrist with her hand so she can take the digit past her lips and swathe it with her tongue. 

Yaz startles, squirming in her lap when her girlfriend nips at the tip of her finger. Entranced, she dances another finger along her bottom lip in suggestion, swallowing back a moan when the Doctor takes it into her mouth in an instant. “Y— you’re forgiven. That’s — you’re — _God.”_

“Name’s the Doctor, actually,” the Doctor muffles around her fingers, mouth wet and warm and sinful. Her pupils are wide and demure, observing her reactions like a sly feline. 

She releases her fingers with a wet _pop_ when Yaz finally musters the ability to move again, shuffling until her back hits the table and she can lean against it. Only then does she take in the sight of the toy over the Doctor’s flustered expression. “Oh. _Oh_. It’s —” 

“Double-ended, yeah,” the Doctor finished with a blush, going shy. “I didn’t know if you wanted to or not but I thought — nevermind.”

“No, no,” Yaz hushes her with a smitten smile. “I want to, I’ve just never used one before.”

The Doctor visibly relaxes, smoothing warm palms up her thighs to her hips, then around to her backside so she can pluck at her underwear. “C’mon, we can figure it out. Please.”

Lifting her hips slightly, Yaz allows her girlfriend to peel her underwear down and discard it at her feet, but she sighs at the loss of contact when it comes to removing her own. 

The Doctor winds an arm around Yaz’s waist as soon as she sinks back into her lap, sighing when the younger woman slips a hand between them to ghost through swollen flesh. She shudders against her, nails curling around her hip tight enough to leave half-crescents behind. 

“We might need some —” Yaz murmurs against her collarbone, where she finally gets her opportunity to graze her tongue and teeth over the prominent ridges. 

“Other pocket, babe,” the Doctor sighs, curling into the lingering, slow caresses of her fingers between her legs before Yaz starts shifting in her lap with unattended need. Breezing past her chest, she walks clever fingers through Yaz’s welcoming warmth. 

Minutes pass by with shared kisses and breathy moans before Yaz pulls back to curl her dampened fingers around the toy. It’s a little smaller than they’ve used before, but the sharing element is new and exciting and more intimate than ever. 

“Ready?” Yaz whispers to her girlfriend, who regards her with a heady mix of desire and adoration. She nudges one end of the crooked toy against her entrance, delighting in the shiver she elicits. 

“Please,” the Doctor pleads, hips twisting into the pressure of the toy in a greedy bid to take more. “I need you.” 

Yaz drops her forehead to the Doctor’s shoulder when it gets to her turn, sinking down onto the glistening pink silicone, enveloping it inch by inch until their hips are flush and both women pause to compose themselves. 

“Holy f—” Yaz gasps, tight and warm around the toy as she accommodates to its curves and ridges. “You feel so good.”

The Doctor shivers, thighs trembling the longer she has to hold back from shifting her hips up against her. Her words do nothing to quell her desires and she breathes a groan into the space between them when she finally gives in to her needs. 

Hips rolling upwards, Yaz grips at her shoulders, nails etching swirling patterns into pale flesh and sending spikes of white-hot pleasure down to her core. “Gods, you’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. I need — unff.” 

The Doctor’s rambles are caught and scattered along Yaz’s tongue when it infiltrates her lips in a kiss. It turns messy when she starts shifting them in slow swivels over her own. 

It’s a foreign feeling, but each stroke of the toy and each breathy groan to follow is more encouraging than the last until they’re all but clinging to each other, scrabbling for something to anchor them both to the present moment. 

“ _More,_ ” Yaz purrs, ducking her head to grace her chest in kisses once more. “I need _more.”_

“Mmf— plan. I have — have a plan,” the Doctor pants, the chair creaking with the effort of her purposeful thrusts. A sheen of sweat glosses her neck and forehead, hair dishevelled under Yaz’s attention. She curls her hands around her backside, finding purchase there. “Can’t think properly.”

When Yaz laughs against her, the effect is instantaneous; a guttural groan falling from her girlfriend’s lips as she increases her pace beneath her squirming hips. 

“ _Yaz_ ,” the Doctor gasps, pressing her thighs together to hold off her impending ascent into bliss. 

Yaz smirks against the pink, salty skin of her chest until suddenly strong hands lift her from her lap without disconnecting them. The table is cold beneath her when the Doctor sets her down, coming to stand between her legs and immediately pick up where they left off. 

The new angle is mind-numbing and Yaz can only squirm and whimper as her girlfriend sets a determined, powerful pace. It’s as though she’s mapping her out from the inside out and targeting only the spots which have stars bursting behind Yaz’s pupils. 

The playing cards frame the younger woman’s form when the Doctor gently eases her down against it, curling an arm under one of her knees and holding it to her side for extra leverage.

Yaz has never been so envious of a respiratory bypass system when, gasping for air, she glances up to find the Doctor holding herself together much more successfully. 

She works away at her with exquisite form, dropping a hand to palm at Yaz’s clit when her own orgasm teeters on the verge. 

“Doctor, mmf— _Doctor,”_ Yaz whimpers when well-practised fingers press more firmly against her clit and she can’t draw herself away from the edge for much longer. A particularly well-angled thrust leaves scrabbling arms shooting out to reach her. “Oh my _God.”_

The Doctor’s stomach muscles and thighs burn with effort as she lifts Yaz back up into her arms, continuing to thrust disjointedly against her in the meantime. She’s too breathless to seek her lips out, instead panting against her neck while her release sends her thighs trembling. “Can’t hold on,” she breathes,the pads of her fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. “I’m going to —” 

Yaz coils into the source of her pleasure when the Doctor bucks against her, out of rhythm and messy as she chases her orgasm. She has no choice but to hold her through it, feeling every muscle tremble and shudder beneath her palms. 

The Doctor is heaving and sweaty and spent when she comes back down from her high to bring her hand between them, thumb circling Yaz’s clit and triggering the other woman’s orgasm in a flourish of clever movements. 

Yaz’s lips part on a silent cry, hips swivelling, rocking and undulating as she rides out the tingling, numbing sensation flooding her muscles.

Peeling dark, damp curls from her girlfriend’s eyes an unknown length of time later, the Doctor casts the toy aside with her free hand. She’s smirking and annoyingly smug; that’s clear. “You were a bit out of it, there, babe. You alright?” 

“I’m —” Yaz murmurs breathlessly, voice hoarse. A flurry of aftershocks make her tremble and she grips at the Doctor’s hip to anchor herself. “I’m _fine._ That was —” Her brows raise in silent gesticulation. 

“Yeah, it was,” the Doctor laughs, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “Think we’d better clean up before we leave, but I still can’t really feel my legs.” 

“Asking for a cuddle, babe?” Yaz hums, pleasantly relaxed as she winds her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and draws her as close as possible. 

“Cuddles with Yaz? Amazin’” she replies, slipping onto the edge of the sturdy table. “Gotta say, though, I didn’t think playing snap would ever get me here.”

Yaz’s laughter is muffled but _loud_ when it falls against her shoulder. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! kudos and comments always appreciated!


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